


Swizzle Sticks

by isthisphantasy



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Meetings, M/M, figure skating, ice hockey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 08:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthisphantasy/pseuds/isthisphantasy
Summary: Professional figure skater Natasha's partner is injured right before her redemption season. She needs someone to fill in and compete with her at her upcoming qualifier competition. Bucky Barnes is her last hope. He's never skated in his life, and certainly can't do fancy twirls and tricks. He's not so sure he's wants to go through with it.His opinion does a one-eighty when he meets star hockey player Steve Rodgers, his new skating coach. Maybe he can learn to carry-lift and swizzle after all.





	Swizzle Sticks

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer- I know a fair bit about hockey, but absolutely nothing about figure skating. I'm sorry if I butcher any terms.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Bucky Barnes could not believe what he was hearing. Natasha was saying what he never thought she would say. Those words he had waited so long to hear. Those three, magic words.

 

“Please help me.”

 

“I don’t believe it.” He grinned. “You’re coming to me for help?”

 

Natasha nodded from across the booth. Around them were sounds of light chit chat and clinking coffee cups. It was surreal. Bucky almost pinched himself.

 

“I can’t give you money” he gestured to his ratty, thrift store jean jacket. “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any.”

 

She shook her head, her red curls waving. “Just hear me out.”

 

He gasped mockingly. “Oh! I get it. You need me to pretend to be your boyfriend for your second cousin’s wedding.” He blew the steam off his dollar cup of coffee. “You wish. I’ve seen enough rom-coms to know how that ends.”

 

“Very funny.” She deadpanned. “It might interest you to know that this is about work.”

 

“Your work or my work?” Bucky’s work was currently nothing. Nobody really wanted to hire a scruffy looking guy with a newly attached and state of the art biomechatronic prosthetic arm.

 

“My work.”

 

Now he was scared. Natasha’s work was frightening. She had moved from being a ballet dancer to a professional figure skater. In his opinion, the only thing scarier than dancing was dancing with knife shoes. She spent almost all her time uptown at an elite skating rink frequented almost exclusively by snotty ice dancers, fancy rich people and combinations of the two. Bucky could not imagine a more terrifying place. He’d almost rather go back to war. Almost.

 

“You know I wouldn’t be asking you if there were any other option.”

 

He winced. “Okay. What is it? Don’t tell me you need me to skate with you.”

 

“I need you to skate with me. Just for one competition”

 

“What happened to Clint?”

 

“Fractured patella.” She didn’t look like she wanted to discuss it any further. "Please? It’s only one competition. We only have to place in the top half to move on to quarterfinals and Clint will be back by then.”

 

“Nat, there’s about a million reasons why I can’t do that.”

 

“Which are…?”

 

He was astonished at her persistence. She must have really scraped to the bottom of the barrel if he was the only option. “Um, one, I’ve never skated in my life.”

 

She shrugged. “An easy fix.”

 

“Two. I don’t have any of the bullshit you need for that kind of thing, no skates, no knee pads, no bedazzled leotard.”

 

“Again, an easy fix.”

 

“And oh, right, what about my fucking robot arm?” He waved the aforementioned arm, almost knocking over his decidedly gross mug of coffee.

 

She reached nonchalantly into her purse for cash to pay their bill. “I already checked the rulebook. It’s allowed.” She left a generous tip for the waitress. Then she turned to Bucky, serious. “It’s three months until qualifiers. I’m not losing out on the gold again.” A shadow of emotion passed over her face, gone in a second. “All you have to do is skate around, not fall over and lift me up once or twice. It’s easy.”

 

He was unsure.

 

“Of course I’ll pay you. Plus,” She paused dramatically. “We’ll give you a cut of the winnings when Clint and I take the gold at finals. Five thousand dollars.”

 

He was no longer unsure. “Okay, fine.” He drained the cup to its dregs, grimacing at the bitterness in his mouth. Whoever decided it was ‘manly’ to drink coffee black needed a kick in the shin. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

  


* * *

  


He took it back. He could think of a million better things to do. Things that didn’t involve getting stared down by preppy middle aged women with expensive haircuts at six in the morning. He knew he looked less than perfect. Sure, he was scruffy, but he had managed to pull his long hair into a functional if not fashionable bun in his early morning stupor. He looks through the window to the crowded ice rink and wonders why people choose ice skating as their am exercise of choice. He dreads going through the doors.

 

Natasha reads his mood. “Don’t worry, we’re not going in there.” She ushers him past the crowd. “We have a special rink.”

 

The rink really is special. It’s quiet and private, empty except for one other person. Bucky notices a man skating in circles, toting a hockey stick. He glides quickly, his untucked, dark blue jersey rippling behind him. He spots Bucky and Natasha, and skates over eagerly to greet them.

 

As he comes closer, Bucky notices another thing. Mystery hockey man is hot. His hair is dark blonde, close cropped beard a little darker. He’s obviously built, even under all his layers. Bucky considers looking more put together for the next early practice. He could get used to “accidentally” bumping into this guy.

 

“Ms. Romanov!” Mystery hockey man smiles broadly. He stops with a quick ankle movement, a little flurry of ice shooting out in his wake. The whole thing looks effortless. Bucky is dazzled by the crinkling of his clear, blue eyes. Mystery man knows Natasha. Bucky’s brain is caught somewhere in between ‘fantastic!’ and ‘yikes!’. The guy places his stick on the rink’s edge. “I couldn’t resist getting a little head start on our warmups.” He has the grace to look sheepish. Natasha forgives him.

 

“I take it this is James?” Hot guy turns his charming smile on Bucky and offers his hand. “I’m Steve.”

 

Bucky rallies his remaining brain cells together and shakes Steve’s hand with his flesh one. He’s suddenly glad of the black knit covering his hands. They look indistinguishable.  “Oh God, nobody calls me that. It’s Bucky.”

 

“It’s a pleasure.”

 

Bucky can’t help but agree.

 

However, as taken as he is by Steve’s appearance, he doesn't quite know why he’s here. “So are you the manager here or…?”

 

Perfect Steve’s perfect eyebrows knit together. “No. I’m your instructor.”

 

Bucky turns skeptically towards Natasha. “I thought you were teaching me.”

 

Natasha examines her nails nonchalantly. “I will teach you. After you get the basics.”

 

“The basics?” Bucky repeats incredulously.

 

“You said it yourself. You don’t even know how to skate. Although I could help you with that, I’m leaving it to the professional. Steve is the rink’s official instructor for beginners like you.”

 

“Why doesn’t Steve compete with you?”

 

“He has a game the night of the competition.”

 

Steve nods. Bucky recognises the logo on his jersey as the logo for the in-house minor league team advertised in the rink’s lobby. He has a ‘C’ embroidered in the top left of the navy fabric. Team captain. Bucky should have guessed.

 

“Well if that’s all,” Natasha adjusted the strap of her bag. “I’ll be taking my leave.”

 

“You’re not staying?” Bucky had a bad feeling about this.

 

Natasha all but rolled her eyes. “I have to train too. Lutzes don’t just happen.” She nods to Steve and exits, the heavy door closing with a bang.

 

Steve runs a hand through his hair and laughs nervously. “I guess it’s just you and me.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s no wonder that Steve is the rink’s recommended teacher. He’s patient and kind the whole time Bucky stuffs his feet into his new skates, cursing under his breath as he ties them. He doesn’t need Steve to help him tie his shoes. He’s stopped being four years old a long time ago. He grumbles all the way down to the ice.

 

Bucky starts out slow, gripping the side of the rink in an effort to stay on his feet. His newly gifted skates are uncomfortable and pinch his toes. Steve assures him that this will go away in time. Eventually Bucky makes it all the way around the rink with just one hand on the edge. He only falls twice.

 

Steve joins him at the side of the rink. “Let's try something new, now that you’re used to the skates.” Bucky isn’t sure he would go that far. Steve sees his skepticism and smiles assuringly. “Trust me.”

 

Strangely, Bucky does.

 

Steve turns to face Bucky and offers his hands. Bucky takes them hesitantly. Steve doesn’t even flinch at the coldness of Bucky’s prosthetic. Natasha must have told him. Steve begins to skate backwards, Bucky in tow. He never imagined he’d be holding hands with perfect Steve this quickly, if at all. Sometimes things just work out.

 

After a bit of wobbling, they’re on their way. “Look at my feet.” Steve says. “See how I angle my skates and push out?” Bucky tries to mirror him. Soon, their gliding in a semblance of the grace Steve displayed earlier. Maybe Bucky could actually do this.

 

“Do you think you’re ready to try it on your own?” Steve asked.

 

“No.” Bucky lied. He liked holding perfect Steve’s perfect hands and seeing the condensation of his breath in the cold. They did another lap.

 

The three hours went by in a flash. By the end, Bucky was doing something akin to skating all by himself. Steve was impressed with his progress and told Bucky this fact often. Bucky was actually a little proud of himself.

 

Steve checked his watch. “I have some time before my practice. How about coffee to celebrate?” After all of that it was only nine in the morning. Normal people were just starting to wake up.

 

“Coffee sounds great.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Please comment if you have any feedback! This is my first venture into this fandom and I hope I can do it justice!


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